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Blueshift Gets Mortified
NCC Medical Ward ''Like its previous incarnation, this medical ward was designed with the medic in mind, with all the modern advances to make the dirty work of repairs a world easier. It is well lit, the blue and violet metal of the walls and decor is a shade paler here, and the ubiquitous filigree is missing, all to assist in ease of cleaning. Still, the place veritably sparkles. In the furniture, there is a subtle motif of blades and sharp edges, as if to evoke the scalpel of a surgeon, although it is all quite safe. Around two dozen beds, more comfortable than their sharp looks would suggest, fill the medical ward, laid out in a tidy grid, and more can be flipped out of the walls should emergency demand it. A set of tracks on the ceiling mirror the grid of beds, allowing advanced scanning equipment and tolls to be swiveled around to the various beds. Computer terminals and cabinets are molded right into the walls at intervals, and while there are the normal medical security cameras, it appears as if someone has set some of the cameras specifically to watch the cabinets. Blueshift sits in the medbay on a cheap seat, reading a magazine. In his hands he holds a waiting ticket, it is number 13,204,395 Mortex enters, the door sliding open with a 'whoosh' and closing behind him with an equally loud 'whoosh'. Sunken red optics lock onto Blueshift as he stalks over, hunched like some horrible bird of prey slowly walking towards its next meal. Sharp, boney metal claws rub together as he considers Blueshift in general, and he nears the patient with an ambulatory gait... And then passes by him, to stop before a table full of what seems to be junk. "Lay down on the table," his rusty-gear voice shrilly demands, "And I will strap you in to begin the procedure, yes?" There's a hissing sound at 'yes', like a schoolbus's brakes being slammed on, and Mortex begins handling a very wicked-looking tool between those delicate claws. "You have nothing to fear," he murmurs, the shriek of his auditory systems still quite loud despite the volume decrease, "I will make you better than you have ever been." Blueshift pockets his ticket. "Uh, I'm not lying on the junk, I've not had my latest turbo-tetnus shot!" he sneers as he stands up. "Also I dont like the look of this sharp implement, I'd prefer something softer and blunter, that is less likely to hurt!" He sits on the table edge, tapping his fingers. "Do you have any light music?" Mortex turns to gesture to the -medical- table, which is quite clear of junk. "Blunt is far more painful, you know," he sorta-coos, though his voice sort of destroys any comforting means it might have, "Don't worry. I know what I'm doing. You want to be stronger, don't you? Redshift - you two are related, aren't you? - went through a procedure with all the pain receptors still on. Now," Mortex shifts tracks, his manipulative skills hard at work, "I had always heard you were -better- than Redshift. Are you really afraid of this little thing?" He fingers the molecularly-sharp scalpel between his claws, giving Blueshift a good look at the wicked instrument's curves and gleams. "Don't lie Mortex, I have a lying detector!" Blueshift waves his magazine in Mortex's direction. "You can't scam me, I'm unscammable, painless blunt please!" He leans forwards quickly. "What? Redshift is a big girl. I want it done with my pain receptors on double! Triple! That'll show him!" Mortex stops. Well, what the heck. He'd never had a patient -agree- to such a thing. "Very well," he consents, "But you still need to lay on the table, so that I can begin opening you up for the upgrade." "Don't worry. It's actually quite interesting." He gestures to the knife. "The sharper it is, you see, the less likely you are to hurt. Imagine me trying to beat your systems open with a blunt object - it would hurt quite a bit. This will only require one, clean, cut." He demonstrates by cutting his own arm open, displaying his internal workings to Blueshift, in order to make him feel a bit better. The arm is sealed up, and he moves over to the operating table. CRASH Blueshift lies down on the table with a clatter, peering over to Mortex. "But my sword is sharp and it hurts people. It isn't a blunt club, trust me Mortex, you are OUTMATCHED in intellect on this day." He then punches a fist straight upwards. "BLUESHIFT!" he chants Mortex deftly slides his fingers around the sealing mechanisms, locking Blueshift down once he's laid down on the table completely. "If you say so," he agrees idly, "But as I lack the foresight to prepare a blunt object for your upgrade, will you permit me to use the scalpel I am so very accustomed to? Next time I will make certain to have a hammer for you." Mortex's skull of a face betrays none of the amusement or vague irritation he's of course feeling as his claws nimbly begin working, amplifying Blueshift's pain receptors to triple the norm. As he does so, he reaches upwards, lowering a very, very large drill-like object towards Blueshift's stomach... ...though some relief would be present, as he swaps it from drill to laser mode. Wait, maybe that's not relief. "Hmmm you and your fancy 'scalpel', medicine man" Blueshift sneers. "Put my under your quack's knife, but be warned I do not scare easil- OH PRIMUS NO WHY!" Blueshift starts screaming like a girl. And this is before Mortex's laser-drill has even touched him :( Mortex seems -remarkably- amused at the rampant screaming before the laser has even begun its work. It's like a present from Primus, if you believe in that sort of superstitious claptrap. Mortex doesn't, but then, he's a surgeon. He knows no intelligent mind was behind this mess of an insides called Transformers! The scalpel, molecule-thin, slides into Blueshift's chest, slowly slicing into it with not a hint of relish. Mortex himself is wheezing in and out like a door with rusty hinges being opened and closed - it's not breathing, exactly, more exhaust fumes being processed within his heavily-modified "lungs". Finally, excruciatingly, he gently removes the chestplate, examining all the various internal organs with a great deal of care, tracing over pieces that need to be replaced with his long sharp claws and calmly, privately relishing in the screaming. It wasn't sociopathy exactly - it was just sort of a fondness for loud, screechy noises. "I will need to replace a great deal of this to enable you to function underwater properly," he informs Blueshift, whether the other can hear him or not (over his own screaming of course). "Don't worry. I've certainly got the parts." Inside Blueshift's chest are various circuits, panels, pieces of machinery, and a packet of Wotsits that got wedged in there one day. "Careful careful!" Blueshift shouts above his generaly "NYAAAAAAAAARGH"ing. "Don't remove my SOUL!" Rippersnapper trods into medical ward, the scent of seawater rich upon him. Jammed inbetween his jaws appears to be a kelp and coral slimey length of metal railing. He drips a little. Mortex flicks his eyes backwards at Rippersnapper as he removes the Wotsits pack first, discarding it. He stalks over to the junkpile, removing various pieces with a critical optic, then returns to the medical table to carefully disconnect the nonvital pieces of Blueshift's internal organs, delicately removing piece by piece to replace it with a better, watertighter version. They are a bit more compact, so there'd be a bit more rattling about in his chest in all likelihood, but that was probably the least of Blueshift's worries at the moment. After a very long bit of replacement and reattaching, Mortex seals up the chest panel with the laser-welder. Then he starts on the arm. Oh joy. Aaaaand a roly-poly Sharkball is still in the med ward, healing his damages. He is curled up in a ball from where he fell asleep last night after the Super Bowl. The medtechs have removed the empty energon chip bags, but are ready to provide more at a moment's notice if Gnaw wakes up. Whilst shouting "Ow ow ow", Blueshift writhes, wobbling about, a rattle coming from his chest. "Hey, you hack!" he swears at Mortex. "At least put some foam cladding in there! Or does that come extra, I dont have unlimited funds you know!" Rippersnapper looks around but knows he'll never find someone useful. He just goes hunting for a tool to do it himself. He finds a simple tool like a crobar... only more Cybertronian so it probably has some useless glowy lights on it and it's bigger ofcourse. He tilts his shark-head slightly and using both stubby arm he aims the crobar end betwene the teeth that have the kelp and coral covered metal rail jammed in them. Mortex removes the arm plating, going to work on it as well. "Cost?" He asks, "I am getting what I want from you already." His claw sweeps behind him to gesture to the pieces of Blueshift on the junkpile. "You had an excellent oil circulation system. I may install it within myself - watertight is hardly an import to me." Understatement of the year, considering the fact that he's a friggin' skeleton, with all his internal workings visible. "I will repad you once I have completed the necessary repairs and the pieces have 'taken' in your alternate mode." Rippersnapper strains, not particularly strong for a Cybertronian. But the crobar is a simplemachine of the fulcrum type and it does the work for him. The metal slowly groans and creaks as he prys it until it pops out and flies in an arch over towards Blueshift's open chasis. "Noooo!" cries Blueshift. "Nooo-oow! Nooo-owww!" He wriggles a bit as Mortex strips his arm down with burning pain. "Mortex I want my old oil system I was going to install it in my /restaurant/ as a nouveux-art piece!" "It's rather quite nice," Mortex notes, "But no. I keep the pieces of everyone I operate on. Professional courtesy to the medic." He begins installing the new pieces of Blueshift's arm with a remarkable amount of detachment as the metal pops out, falling into Blueshift's arm and giving Mortex an eyebrow raise. That is, if he had any eyebrows -to- raise. Or any ability to change the size of his optics at all. "Argleargleargle!" shouts Blueshift as his triple-pain causes even a touch to hurt. "Mortex your instruments are too sharp, make them blunter, you monster!" Rippersnapper picks at his jaws a little more with the crobar and then puts it back where he found it. Mmm hygenic. Good thing he's metal, not flesh. :p He pivots and trundles over to the operation in progress. His shark-face looks over Blueshift quietly. "That wasn't any of my instruments," he murmurs, "That was something falling inside you." Finally, the arms are finished, and we'll skip the legs' work for Blueshift's sake. After a moment, he releases the locks. "Transform," he hisses, "So that I can pad you and waterproof the proper form." "Yesss!" Shouts Blueshift as he leaps to his feet, transforming into his alternate mode, which hovers there. "It doesn't feel any different!" he whines. "I bet I'm even the same colour!" Blueshift leaps into the air, flipping into the form of a small spacecraft Gnaw awakens with a start as he hears loud noises. He glances about and sees Mortex working on Blueshift, and Rippersnapper using a crowbar as a toothpick. "Food!" he exclaims. Mortex slowly straps Blueshift back in, scalpel pressing against the spacecraft's form to cut open the loose pieces and apply padding and such to his internal workings, caulking/sealing off the more dangerous ones, and generally enabling Blueshift to move about underwater without a lot of short-circuiting. After a painstaking process (one that, to the pain-tripled Blueshift, would likely feel like an eternity), he's done. He releases the locks and gestures for Blueshift to stand if he wishes. "Your upgrade his complete," he murmurs, placing the last of Blueshift's pieces on the junkpile and locking the pile into its safekeeping-box. "Your pain receptors have been returned to normal. How do you feel?" Rippersnapper turns to Gnaw. "No cheeseburgers." Blueshift flips back into robot mode, staggering about as he continues to buzz from the pain. "Nnnn I feel BRAVER if anything from your terrible hack job!" he snarls. And then he pushes a brown envelope in Mortex's direction. "There. The Best Of Genesis. The most evil thing I could find." Mortex takes the 'Best of Genesis' between his claws and sets it down in his safekeepings box. "Have a pleasant day." Rippersnapper turns to Mortex and murmurs to Gnaw, "Looks like he's already been picked at and tasted too bad to finish." Gnaw looks downcast as he is told no cheeseburgers. Wait...what the heck's a cheeseburger? Blueshift looms near Gnaw suddenly. "It is a burger made from the finest CHEESE, foolish Sharkticon!" he sneers Gnaw says, "Cheeeeeese?"